The Dueling Club
by kingmaker
Summary: Gandalf and Saruman pass on lessons learned during the shooting of FotR, much to the chagrin of Galadriel and Haldir.


The Dueling Club

(Author's Note: Awrin is my mini-Balrog, who acts as an intermediary between me and the canon characters.)

            For what must have been the hundredth time since this had begun, Gandalf looked at the strange hobbit as though he were insane. "A duel? You want us to fight a duel? What is this? You think the Istari should fight a duel like some common wizard?"

            Saruman's mouth twitched ever so slightly. "That's exactly what he wants, and I think we can give it to him. I'll transform him into an animal and set him to attack you, and you can use the hairy… um… what is he called?... photography guy. If my transformation wins, I can leave this farce and go back to planning another world conquest. Loser gets to clean up the mess."

            Gandalf sighed and nodded. Andrew's arms were already turning into wings when Peter yelled at them to stop. "No! This isn't a Disney film. ("A what?" interjected Saruman) We are assuming that Gandalf would not become a prisoner of Saruman without putting up some manner of resistance and that Saruman would not take being called mad lightly. It will make it easier for audiences to relate to you two as wizards with powers to be reckoned with, and it sets up future contests like the exorcism of Theoden."

            "The what?" Saruman asked.

            "Uh oh. I don't like the sound of that," Gandalf added.

            "Let's not worry about it now. Furthermore, your duel will provide some good action early in the movie. And, well, it'll be really cool."

            "Really what?" Saruman inquired.

            "Well… don't worry about it. I'm in charge of this film, and if I say this film needs two old guys throwing each other around the throne room of Orthanc, it needs this wizards' duel."

            "But how are we to do such a thing? Either of us would be capable of delivering incredible physical force in our natural state, but we are rather more limited in human bodies. I suppose I could speak a word of Command and set the air itself against him, but I could only do that once and there is no guarantee that I could overcome Saruman's counterspell," Gandalf stated.

            "Free your mind, Gandalf. Using your staff, direct your power against your foe and knock him off his feet. Send him flying backward into the wall or spinning in the air. Knock his feet out from under him. This shouldn't be too difficult."

            Several hours later, both wizards were bruised and bloody, but Peter had captured what he wanted on film and the art of the cool wizards' duel was now firmly ingrained in the minds of both Istari.

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            Galadriel rolled over with a moan upon hearing the loud 'THUMP' from below, where a long stone hall had been erected for the lessons. Why in the name of Eru did they have to start practice so early? This was the third morning in a row they had woken her before the sun was up. She resolved that tonight she would turn in early, make Celeborn sleep somewhere else, and use Nenya to conjure up some earplugs in hopes of prolonging her beauty rest. 

            She still didn't really understand why this had to happen here. Why not in Imladris or Greenwood? Both had halls of the type needed for the training so they wouldn't have to construct one. "The problem," Awrin had explained, "is fanboys and fangirls. Crossover fanfiction, even of a generalized nature, opens the door for writers with more… romantic notions, and we would only be inviting more trouble by setting this in Rivendell or Mirkwood. Your granddaughter, well, you know how she can charm men, and… let's just say, God forbid, there are those who would pair Legolas and that boy."

            "So?" Galadriel had retorted through her shudder. Though, upon reflection, it couldn't be any worse than some of the pieces written about Thranduil and his son. After reading some of those, she really had pitied the prickly old king. "I'm told that I have a few fanboys myself, thank you very much, and Haldir has more than his fair share of fangirls. All you're doing is bringing the problem to Caras Galadhon instead of leaving it for Thranduil or my charming son-in-law. And from what you've told me about these guys, this could cause a lot of problems."

            "Okay, fine, I'm not supposed to tell you this, but the real reason we're doing it in Lorien is because the kingmaker can't write a humorous piece worth the pixels it's written with from Legolas' point of view. He already tried, in the hopes of luring more readers to his page, but he just couldn't make it work, so he shifted the setting here."

            Galadriel sighed. Awrin had promised that the kingmaker would keep it as short as possible, but that didn't help her now. She wanted nothing more than to go down there and blast the lot of them to the breaking of the world, but she had promised not to harm the visitors and, more to the point, she didn't relish the idea of fighting all of them at once, even with Nenya. And since only she was allowed to know the true nature of this affair, she couldn't recruit help. And besides that, most of the elves had either relocated to flets as far from the hall as possible or left town until this was over. So, with few other options, she pulled the pillow over her head and snuggled closer to Celeborn.

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            Haldir was not normally a curious elf, but he really wanted to know what was so important about the stone hall that Galadriel had conjured up and refused to tell anyone about. At first he had assumed it was just an impulsive addition to the city to remind Galadriel of Menegroth, but then he had heard the thumping noises issuing from it for the better part of the day. He suspected the hall contained a beast Galadriel had found to use against the orcs, but Rumil was positive that it held some wild new sex toy for the royal couple. That had been the comment that convinced him to succumb to his curiosity.

            Haldir was confused. He had entered stealthily, as only an elf can, and immediately came to the conclusion that there had to be some reason for it to be here other than to enhance Galadriel and Celeborn's other nocturnal activities. Curunir was standing in the middle of the hall, casually leaning on his staff, his nose bloody but his face alight in triumph. Mithrandir lay on the floor across from him, looking similarly bloodied. Arrayed in two groups on opposite sides of Curunir were half-a-dozen individuals of mixed origins. Two of them might have served as sex toys for Galadriel, were she not so faithful to her husband, and another two might work as… No, he wasn't going to finish that thought. His lord was more than content with his lovely wife.

            The three to Curunir's right were laughing, but the others were subdued. One of them was kneading his eyes with his knuckles. He (or she, Haldir wasn't certain) looked like a dwarf who'd been forced to live on salad for a hundred years. Or maybe a shriveled-up hobbit.

            "It's very simple, my friends. Just direct your power at your foe and fling him backwards. With practice, you may even be able to pin him to a wall," Curunir explained.

            "And what… incantation should we use?" one of the individuals to Curunir's right asked.

            Haldir studied him more closely. His first impression was that this was a human, but now he was not so sure. As he shifted to get a better look, he noticed that the man's features somewhat resembled his own. Perhaps this was an elf, but under the influence of some evil. The blonde hair fell to the same length as his own but looked whiter. And this man was clad in flowing black that seemed to complement the hint of malice in his eyes.

            "One does not even need an incantation, my friends. Merely the power and the intent. Though if one required words, I imagine that anything would work. I could draw words from the Ringspell, or from… Aargh!"

            Mithrandir was coming to his feet, his staff pointed at Curunir, who spun through the air before landing in a heap against the opposite wall.

            "That," said Mithrandir with amused triumph in his eyes, "is how you defeat a pompous foe. Let him feel his confidence growing, and then hit him."

            The three who had been laughing grew suddenly silent, but the others showed no such pleasure. The emaciated dwarf-thing had stopped kneading its eyes, but it was now alternatively staring at its fingers with a look of awe and slapping itself in the face. The second, a human who might be considered good-looking given the right series of elvish beauty treatments, had turned completely away from the Istari and was running his fingers through his hair while muttering something about needing a mirror. The third, a brown-haired boy who was barely more than a child, was focused on Mithrandir, his eyes bordering on worshipful.

            Across from him, the other boy scowled. He had blonde hair that had probably seen too many elvish beauty treatments, but he looked like a younger version of the other man. Or perhaps his son. The third was undoubtedly human and, though clad entirely in black, might be some cousin of the Numenoreans, based on his oily dark hair and the aura of uncleanliness he gave off. There also must have been some nobility in his character, based on the fact that he strode over to Curunir and offered him a hand.

            Curunir started to wave his staff toward Mithrandir again but, seeing the smile spreading on the grey wizard's face, decided against attacking him again. "Perhaps it's time to see if our students are capable of doing what was requested of them. If they are, we can go back to our busy lives. I don't want to be here so long that I go back to Isengard and find (sniff) little Lurtz all (sniff) grown up."

            As Curunir, much to Haldir's surprise, broke down crying, Mithrandir resumed. "Indeed, like my emotional friend, I too wish to finish this task. I still do not understand why that Chris person needed us to teach you how to duel instead of planning something original. Whatever. People emulate success, I suppose. Professor… Snipe, is it? Why don't you and Locket practice for your duel."

            The Numenorean cousin dressed all in black drew what looked to be a smooth branch from inside his robes and gave Mithrandir a look laden with hatred. No one else reacted. He cleared his throat and six pairs of eyes turned toward the human who Haldir assumed was Locket based on his self-obsession. Snipe coughed louder, but Locket, humming and muttering to himself, did not turn around. Snipe looked at the others, shrugged nonchalantly, and pointed his branch at Locket's back while saying something under his breath. Haldir thought he saw the air shimmer between the two and then Locket went flying away from the others at high velocity. He might have made the less-than-pleasant acquaintance of the wall had Haldir not been there to catch him.

            "Well done, Professor Snape," the blonde boy uttered admiringly while the other man applauded politely. Haldir, now that the inhabitants of the hall were aware of his presence, might have asked what was going on, but Locket, having recovered his balance, made no move to step away. Instead, he was stroking Haldir's hair and muttering "What beautiful hair! How did you make your hair look like this? Take me to your hair stylist! I must have this hair!"

            Haldir, highly disturbed and afraid of making any sudden movements, looked pleadingly at Mithrandir. Some words passed between Mithrandir and the brown-haired boy that Haldir did not catch, but the boy took Mithrandir's staff and, with a look of cold determination in his eyes, advanced toward Locket and whacked him in the back of the head with the staff. He went limp, and Haldir set him on the ground with a word of thanks to the boy. But the boy had already turned and was staring at the blonde boy with a grim smile. The blonde boy looked slightly frightened.

            "Ih…ih…ih…If you try that on me, Harry Potter," he stammered, "I'll… I'll…" Snipe, or Snape, whatever his name was, whispered something in the boy's ear. "I'll summon a snake on you." Harry Potter shrugged and handed the staff back to Mithrandir. Just as he was doing so, the other boy pointed a stick at Harry Potter and muttered something under his breath. The air seemed to shimmer again, and Harry Potter was launched backward to land in a heap on top of the unconscious Locket.

            Haldir leaned forward to help the boy up, but he shrugged it off, pulled out a stick of his own, and sent the blonde boy flying. The blonde man strode forward, proclaiming "How dare you harm my son!" His own stick was out, but before he could attack Harry Potter, the creature of undetermined origins interposed itself between the two and squeaked "You shall not harm Harry Potter!" It snapped its fingers and, for the sixth time in the few minutes since he had entered the hall, Haldir saw someone launched across the room.

            Tempers were obviously at the breaking point, but before things could get more violent, the Istari stepped between the two groups. "Well, I think they have figured out how to duel. Our work seems to be done," Mithrandir said. He walked over to Locket, touched him with the staff, and asked if he would do the honors before Awrin showed up. "Awrin?" Haldir was thinking. "Doesn't he mean Arwen?" But Locket apparently knew what he meant, because Locket pulled out his stick, pointed it at Haldir and, before Haldir could react, shouted "_Obliviate__!"_

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            Awrin came up to report to Galadriel before returning to her home in the 'My Pictures' folder on the kingmaker's computer. The "Chamber of Secrets" duelers had been returned to Chris for filming. Mithrandir was back on the roads of Eriador, where, at least for the time being, he belonged. Curunir had gotten back to Isengard in time for Lurtz's noon feeding (the orc he had left in charge reported that Lurtz was now eating an orc and a half in a sitting, prompting Curunir to weep tears of joy). The hall had been deleted, and life in Lorien would soon return to normal. Awrin also brought the payment the kingmaker had promised in exchange for permission to put the hall in Caras Galadhon: two new dresses to enlarge her wardrobe, an exact copy of Nenya (so Celeborn wouldn't always know if she was wearing it or not), leopard print sheets for their king-and-queen-size bed, and a chest full of sex toys to give Celeborn during Yule (since he always gave her lingerie, turnabout _was_ fair play).

            Galadriel was sufficiently pleased that she invited Awrin to share a lunch of BLTs before she left. Just before the mini-Balrog disappeared, she warned Galadriel that Haldir had apparently walked in on what they were doing and they had erased his memory before leaving, so he would probably be groggy and confused for a few days until the canonical rift created by the crossover healed completely, erasing the effects of any uncanonical magic.

            By the time Galadriel had descended to the forest floor, Rumil had already reached his unconscious brother. "What happened to him?"

            "He stumbled across things he wasn't meant to know about," Galadriel responded cryptically as she woke Haldir up. In addition to looking completely dazed, it looked like someone had hastily cut off most of his hair.

            His eyes were very unfocused as he opened them, but when he saw Galadriel, he addressed her. "Nice sex toys. Where have you been all my life?" He then promptly fell back to sleep.

            "How did he find out about those?" Galadriel wondered to herself.

            Rumil, showing surprisingly strong emotions for an elf, whooped "Ha! I knew I was right," gave his queen a lecherous smile, and walked off to tell the denizens of Caras Galadhon the true nature of the mysterious hall.

            "Damn," thought Galadriel.

(Author's Notes: As with _Architect_, I should have written this up back closer to the movie coming out, but better late than never. I don't know if anyone else felt this way, but when I saw the Chamber of Secrets movie, one of my first comments after leaving the theatre was to the effect that Gandalf and Saruman must have taught the HP characters how to duel.

Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine. Gandalf, Saruman, Galadriel, Celeborn, Haldir, and Rumil belong to Tolkien; Harry, Lockheart, Dobby, Lucius, Snape, and Draco belong to Rowling; Awrin the mini-Balrog is on loan from Miss Cam; Peter Jackson, Andrew Lesnie, and Chris Columbus all, as far as I know, belong to themselves.)


End file.
